Goodbye L.A.

By Bob Malone   Stage three, can’t breathe, can’t seeTen lanes of concrete still can’t competeWith the trucks and the bussesAnd the movie stars and executivesLimos and LexusesSlave all day just to live in a boxThat looks like every other box on the blockEighteen suburbs in search of a citySeven million souls in a town without pity Now that I’m here I don’t know why I cameBut I know enough to know that it’s time to goAnd I got to go today Goodbye L.A.I know you won’t miss my faceGoodbye L.A.I’ll just be one less person looking for a parking spaceGoodbye L.A.Well I got to get away, got to get away from here Attitude overload, you think this town couldn’t holdAnother wannabe with a photo and a fake biographyTalent won’t help if someone else looks betterWhere spandex and leather means you got your shit togetherSuckin’ up to some Hollywood aceWith the vanity plates and a silicone dateHe says: “Call my machine but not meWe’ll meet next week at that place down the street When I’m there they t